


a bar somewhere

by decotex



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decotex/pseuds/decotex
Summary: Tony and Loki cross paths. They're both having a bad day, so they call a temporary truce.Feat. feelings, trashy television, and kickflips.





	

There’s a bar somewhere that has a flickering neon sign and $7 mixed drinks during happy hour. It’s never busy, but there’s always a customer or two. If a passerby were to give the bar a second thought, which none of them ever do, they would marvel at how it’s managed to stay open this long. 

Tony Stark goes here when he needs to get out of his own head, and on the rare days when he can’t handle the eyes of the world on him. He goes here to drink away his problems in the privacy of his own personal cloud of self-pity. 

He’s downing his second Manhattan one night when someone walks in. Tony glances upwards and stares. 

Loki stares back. 

He’s wearing regular people clothing. Loafers. He’s wearing loafers. They’re not even black. Without his armor, it’s obvious how painfully, drastically unthreatening he is - his body, at least. Unlike Thor, who has kind eyes but muscles upon muscles upon muscles, Loki is relatively small with sharp, striking features and green eyes that right now are boring holes into Tony’s skull. 

Loki’s clearly as surprised to see him as he is. He looks tired. He looks like a guy who wants a beer after a long day at work. 

There’s a moment, where both of them wonder whether they’re about to Cause A Scene and Break A Lot of Shit. 

But Tony’s not in the mood, not here, not  _ today _ , so instead he sticks out his hand. 

“Truce?” he says. 

Loki stares at him for a moment longer, before slowly reaching out to shake. 

“Truce.”

Loki sits down at the bar, leaving a one barstool buffer distance like they’re at the urinals or something. He orders a drink, and then they both sit there for a moment, in silence. 

“So . . . come here often?”

For a second it seems like Loki might just ignore him completely. Which would actually be fine, considering. 

“Sometimes. You?”

“No. Just special occasions.”

“What’s the occasion?”   


“Anniversary.”

“Congratulations.”

Tony takes a sip. “Not that kind of anniversary.”

“ _ Ah.” _

The bartender brings Loki his drink.

It’s past midnight. A man outside is yelling. He doesn’t come into the bar. A siren wails in the distance. 

“So like,” Tony begins. “What do you . . .  _ do.  _ Like, when you’re not actively fighting us, or plotting or whatever.”

“Why?”

“I’m genuinely curious. No ulterior motive, I swear. It . . . it’s the loafers, man. You wear  _ loafers _ . What else do you do that I don’t know about?”

“Tony Stark,” says Loki, a little bit viciously. “You know  _ nothing _ about me.”

There’s an obvious threat in his words. As with most problems, Tony ignores it.

“I know that you can kickflip me through a wall if you wanted to.”

“I could, but I wouldn’t. I don’t  _ do  _ kickflips. They’re  _ tacky _ .”

“Don’t tell Widow. She’ll probably hit you.”

“Maybe she’d kickflip me. For the irony.”

Tony’s beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, and this is fine, actually. He’s always enjoyed Loki’s banter. They had something of a special relationship on the battlefield.

"You know a kickflip is a skateboard trick, right?"

“Have you heard of  _ Unsolved Mysteries _ ?” Loki asks, somewhat out of the blue.

“What, in general?”   
  
“The television show.”

“Oh. Yeah?”

Loki sips his drink. “I’ve taken to it.”

Tony stares at him. “You watch . . . trashy television?”

“It’s not trashy,” Loki retorts, and hilariously, there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice. 

“ _ That’s  _ what you do all day? Not, I don’t know, reading ancient texts or practicing your magic?”

“Not  _ all _ day. But sometimes. It’s interesting. Your world is more complicated than I previously thought. It’s strange.”

Tony is reminded of the fact that, as human as Loki may look, he’s an actual literal alien, from a world with as much complexity as this one. 

Someone turns on the television. Both Tony and Loki look up. A soccer game is playing. 

Tony gestures at the television. 

“You watch-”

“No.”

“Me either.”

Silence.

It goes on for so long that Tony is startled when Loki finally speaks up. 

“Have you ever heard the saying that everyone is the hero of their own story?”

“Yeah.”

Loki swirls his drink thoughtfully. 

“It’s not true.”

Tony stares. Loki’s hair hangs down around him and it clearly hasn’t been cut in a while. He has a bruise on his arm. He’s staring into his drink like there’s a picture of a sad puppy inside the glass.

“Yeah,” says Tony. “Been there.”

The television glitches. It’s old, just like this place. Tony’s been here far too many times, always for the wrong reasons. 

He stands up. 

He puts a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki feels cool, but not cold. 

Almost human. 

“Just to be clear,” says Tony. “The truce ends five . . . no, fifteen minutes after I walk out the door.”

“Agreed.”

“The next time I see you I’m going to kickflip your ass into the next country.” 

Loki grins, a spark deep within his previous corpse-like expression. 

“You can try.”   
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Love these two. The sassiest motherfuckers to ever grace our media.


End file.
